CHAPTER 13: Annabel
Sitting there across the table from one another in his mother’s kitchen, ravenously devouring the pizza and gulping down large glasses of Mountain Dew and Coke between bursts of laughter, it was like we had never been apart. It was as if Shane had not cheated on me with Juju. Like he had never gotten in the car with Kenny the night of the horrible accident. Like he had never confronted his father with such tragic results. Like he had never gone away. Like we had never spent a day or a night apart. Like I was still in love with him madly. That’s what it felt like in that moment. Sadly, I knew all moments pass and this one would, too.
Biscuit the Maltese was sitting patiently on the floor now, waiting to clean up whatever crumbs we might drop. The little dog was around ten-years-old, but still acted like a puppy, standing on its hind legs, dancing in circles hoping she’d be rewarded with food. Shane couldn’t resist pulling cheese off the pizza and feeding little bites to her.
“You should not feed a dog people food,” I said, scolding him with my eyes. He just smiled and kept offering Biscuit bites of cheese.
“Is this people food? Really?” he asked, giving me a sideways grin.
“It’s what passes as people food when you’re starving,” I said. I let my eyes drift around the kitchen. It was neat, almost like no one had lived there for a very long time. “So, you’re going to sell the place?”
Shane wiped the grease from his fingertips and picked up his drink. “I have no use for it,” he said, looking around. “You want it?”
“Why would I want it?” I asked.
“Your receptionist told me you lived above your practice,” he said with a shrug. “This place ain’t much, but it has to be better than that.”
“My receptionist should keep her mouth shut,” I said, eyebrows arching at the thought of Wendy sharing my business with Shane, who for all she knew, was a psycho serial killer.
“Don’t be mad at her,” he said. “I told her we were old friends.”
“Did you now.”
“I did.”
“Is that what we are, Shane? Old friends.”
The smile slowly faded from his lips and his eyes went narrow. “Well, I like to think so.”
I didn’t plan for the next words to come out of my mouth. They just did, like spitting out a mouthful of water when someone tells a joke. And when I spat them out they hung in the air between us like a bad smell.
“Why did you fuck Juju?”
Shane blinked at the question. “What?”
“Juju,” I said, cupping my hands to my breasts. “Big tits, big hair, deep throat.” I let my hands drop into my lap and laced my fingers together. “Why did you fuck her?”
“I didn’t,” he said, shaking his head and holding up his hands like he was pushing the words back toward me.
“Bullshit,” I shot back.
“No, seriously. I never screwed Juju.”
“I saw you,” I said incredulously, leaning in and cocking my head to the side.
“You saw her… well, sucking my cock. You did not see me fuck her.”
I frowned at him. “Are you telling me you never fucked Juju Wheeler?”
He leaned in to match my posture and lowered his voice. “Never.”
“She was naked in the back of your mom’s car.”
“Yes, she was.”
“You were naked.”
He hesitated. “Yes.”
“But you didn’t fuck her.”
“I did not.”
It came to me like a nine iron to the forehead. My head slowly bobbed as his words started to chip away at the brick wall that was my brain. “Ah, because you didn’t have the chance because I caught her sucking your cock…”
He brought the glass up to cover the smirk on his lips. His eyes rolled at me from above the glass. “The reason is irrelevant. Because I did not fuck her.”
I sat back and folded my arms over my breasts. I cocked one eyebrow at him. “So, basically it’s the Bill Clinton Defense.”
He frowned as a slight smile bit at the corner of his lips. “The Bill Clinton Defense?”
I jabbed on knuckle in the air and did a very bad impression of Bill Clinton. “I did not have sex with that woman… Juju Wheeler…”
“Ah, the Bill Clinton Defense.”
“A blowjob is sex. Same as fucking.”
“I beg to disagree,” he said, holding up his own finger now and swiping it back and forth through the air. “A blowjob is sex. Fucking is sex. But a blowjob is not fucking, hence a lesser offense.”
“A lesser offense?” I asked, nodding thoughtfully.
“Yes.”
“And you think it should carry a lesser sentence.”
He stared into my eyes and said, “Isn’t ten years enough?”
I started to speak, but my brain had the good sense to keep my mouth shut. Shane was right. I was sitting there beating him up over something that happened —or I thought had happened— more than ten years ago. Was a blowjob as severe an act of betrayal as fucking? Was it a lesser form of cheating and thereby easier to forgive? Should I have reacted the way I did back then, thinking that Shane and Juju’s affair had gone much further than it actually had? Who knows. It was too late to even think about it now.
I blew out a long breath and picked up my drink. I took a slow sip and forced myself to smile. “Tell me about the SEALs.”
“Not much to tell,” he said. “I go where they send me and do what I’m ordered to do.”
“Do you like it?”
“Most of the time.”
“Do you ever miss home?” I asked
He fixed his eyes on mine. “Sometimes.”
“What do you miss most?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You. I miss you every minute of every day.”
“I miss you, too.” I got up from the table and held out my hand. “Will you make love to me, Shane, like you used to?”
Without saying a word, he took my hand and led me down the hallway to the bedroom. It was like taking a walk back in time.